


The Snows

by Jacal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousincest, F/M, Fluff, Half-sibling-cest, Incest, JonxArya, Romance, Unrequited(?), Vignette for now, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacal/pseuds/Jacal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya's thoughts after Jon Snow told the innkeeper they're married to avoid suspicion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been seriously obsessed with JonxArya for weeks. This idea may not be as original as I want it to be, but I have to contribute this piece as my thanks to all the amazing Jonrya authors out there who keep the ship sailing! Let's write more JonxArya, I beg of you!
> 
> And oh, happy reading! 
> 
> x Jac

“I’ll get us something to eat.”

Face seemingly void of emotion, Jon looked like he was going to say something else, but decided against it. He cleared his throat and walked out the door without sparing her another glance. She could hear his heavy footsteps descending the wooden stairs outside the room. Knowing he was out of earshot, Arya bit her lip and breathed out through her nose. She didn’t know whether she should burst out laughing or feel sorry for him.

What had they gotten themselves into?  

After escaping the Boltons from Castle Black, they’ve been traveling by foot for days. Their happy reunion had been brief, and before they can ask each other what happened to their significant lives, they had to run when they heard that Ramsay was hunting them down. 

Arya didn't even get around to asking why Bolton was after Jon's neck because she had been so damn happy to see Jon again. For the first time in years, she felt like lady luck was on her side. She couldn't believe that she was finally with family. 

With  _Jon_. 

And it took a while to recover from the initial shock of seeing him. It took her hours and days to stop staring at him, to stop constantly checking on him so he wouldn't disappear like he did in her dreams. Although their conversations were curt and few (worrying her at times, to be honest), he had never left her side ever since. And with that, Arya knew there was nothing more important in this world but Jon.  For some reason, things were finally in her favor.  Just like that, she was no longer alone. 

To be fair, as much as being with Jon had given her so much joy, it wasn't particularly  _easy_. 

Other than the Targaryen rumors she never got around to ask other people about, this Jon wasn’t her Jon anymore. It was in the way he carried himself, the way he talked, the way he breathed. Physically, he was taller, shoulders broader, and his voice was deeper than she remembered. He was almost odd in a sense, but she reminded herself that it was the same reason why he had always been her favorite person. Then again, he was still the typical Jon: broody and beautiful all at the same time. She couldn't decide if he was more broody or more beautiful now, but Arya was never going to admit that she almost freaked out the first time she saw him again.

It was strange, how at the sight of this new Jon, Arya felt the need to press her cold fingers against the burning in her cheeks. She had to mentally scold herself, _it's him, it's Jon!_  What was wrong with her, acting like a love-struck princess in those stupid stories that Sansa used to love? Arya Stark didn’t blush. She had seen so many things that would’ve made maidens like Sansa squirm in their pretty dresses. 

What a joke. 

At the sight of Jon, all her efforts to be as cold as ice were seemingly in vain. Not that she bothered to fight the onslaught of emotions in her chest—her brother had always been the fire to melt her walls away. This was Jon Snow, the same boy whom she had loved whole-heartedly even before she had learned to speak his name. And he, in return, despite his reputation of being contemplative most of the time, reserved his precious smiles only for her. 

And some things never change.

Jon broke character first, his lips in a crooked smirk. Anyone watching him would’ve assumed he was just mocking her—a dirty young girl gaping at him like he was an apparition. But what other people won't notice is the way his dark eyes had brightened when he recognized her. _Only Jon can see right through me_ , Arya thought, and pushed herself forward to throw her arms around him. 

“ _Jon_ ,” she mumbled his name twice in his ear, the second one a little bit louder for herself to hear. It had been strange to say his name like she used to. And Jon had been kind enough to return the favor by cupping her cheek with his gloved hand. She couldn’t recall if she had cried, but she would never forget how it felt to be pressed against him, his heat radiating fiercely from his winter clothes. 

“ _Arya_ ,” he called her, and Arya had never been happier to be herself in that very moment. The sight of Jon made her abandon all duty and thought, and at the same time, he had recognized her beyond her mask. And when he did, by the old gods and the new, she was no one else but Arya. Hearing her name from his lips had drawn all the broken pieces of her heart and soul together, much of those she thought would be too distorted to fix, but he did—with just one mention of her name. She had ceased to be No One. 

“Little sister.” 

It had been easy up to that point, at least. 

Unfortunately, they had to break their sweet get-together and run for their lives. And when the running stopped, that’s when Arya noticed how things have really changed between them. For one, she would feel him staring, studying her. He was equally bewildered by her appearance, Arya surmised then, him probably thinking about how her current physique and the child he had said goodbye to years ago were one and the same person. She was a bit taller, and well, she wasn’t the flat-chested kid she used to be. It was supposed to be funny, but it made Arya feel proud (and a tad bit too happy) that he was struggling with this realization. 

Once he had mentioned in passing how she wasn’t a child anymore, but that was it. He refused to say anything else.  Arya felt slightly disappointed the he didn’t elaborate—not that she was fishing for compliments, but a part of her wanted a little more (flattery, maybe?). She would’ve preferred if he teased her for still being a horseface or how she had never grown out of her love for breeches, but no. He didn’t break the ice. He wasn’t making any effort to bring them back to how they used to be. Sure, they would share the occasional laugh or mundane story, but it was all small talk. And she couldn’t prod or ask, knowing there were more things that she would rather not talk about during their meals. 

Other than his presence and his rare smile, the only thing that anchored Arya was this certain gleam in his eyes. It shimmered a somewhat mysterious conundrum that she has only ever seen in her own reflection. And for now, that similarity was more than enough. He made her hope again. As long as they were together, they could make it through anything. 

Even so, it would’ve been so much easier if they hadn’t met at this point in their lives, where talking felt like torture. All their stories were about death and regret, and Arya was unprepared to be thrust in the middle of this complicated affair.  Unless the two of them could disintegrate and return to the younger versions of themselves, maybe things wouldn't be this hard. 

If only she wanted that to happen.

Why would she want to replace the man that her Jon has become? Gone was her boy of a brother, in his place a warrior, seemingly a heartless dragon reborn with savage wolf blood running through his veins.

Arya could only conclude that her growing attraction to Jon was rather sane and sensible. Perhaps a little too Lannister for her own taste, but it wasn’t as crazy—or _wrong,_ as she thought it would feel. It was as if it was meant to happen all along, like the love that had always been there had simply burned brighter, consuming her until she was one with the flames. 

Supposedly, their shared past as siblings should make her recoil, but instead, Arya found herself thinking: _Why not?_ Their history that fate had so desperately tried to erase—all their joint memories, perhaps those would be enough to ignite a passion they thought they’ve long lost. Because despite the people they've turned into, despite the unspeakable things they've done (more for her part than his, Arya was sure), they have still found each other. Like before, it was only Jon who truly understood, and o nly in his arms offered solace and love to be free as the air she breathed. The better question was, _h_ _ow could she not? _

How could she not admire Jon? 

How could she not love him more than she loved him as a brother? 

Jon had always been her other half, Arya was sure of it.

Jon had always been the one. 

She had staked her claim on him when she had first learned the word "mine". 

And she had always been his, hadn't she? 

But as wild and strong as she felt for him, Arya had to take things slow. There was still a possibility that she was alone in her thoughts, that she was merely stuck in childlike admiration of Jon Snow in all his self-loathing glory. She had to take things slower for his sake, even if she wanted to throw herself at him, explore their relationship (blood relations be damned), and see if they can love each other’s bodies akin to how their souls had mated since the beginning of time.  

Arya kept her usually brutally honest mouth closed because he wasn’t ready. 

Kept her damn mouth shut.

Because Jon wasn’t like that. 

Even if the rumors were true and he was a Targaryen, Jon would never do anything to sever his bond with his “little sister”.

Maybe her time as No One has corrupted her so? Maybe it had messed up her brain, her heart, her body—for her to think of such immoral and twisted thoughts about her brother like that… You’d think she was part Lannister.

Arya had been willing to tell herself that she was insane, that she had been imagining everything, that she had been reading too much into his intense stares, his quiet sulking—after all, they had much to think about other than this _thing_ between them (and there was probably none to begin with). 

And Arya was willing to let herself die an old maiden, forever tread behind him and support him through all of his conquests—just because she could not bare the thought of leaving him now. She would hang on as long as she could. She would hold on until her love ran out (which she doubt ever would). 

Resigning to spinsterhood would have been the original plan.

But then there was Jon... Who happened to make the stupidest (and most fascinating) blunder when they entered the old inn.  

“I suppose the two of you need a room and a hot bath?” 

Arya had been too tired to jest over the old man’s honest observation. They were dirty all over, haven’t had anything decent to eat for days, and the first, long sentence that leaves Jon’s mouth was this: 

“Ah yes, one room for me and my wife.”

Arya had wanted to laugh out loud until the innkeeper kicked them out because she was being crazy, but she had feared that a multitude of butterflies would erupt from her mouth because she felt so happy. Her stomach twisted in anticipation. She felt like she was floating. 

Giddy. 

In love. 

A dream came true was rare nowadays, after all. But the way Jon said it made her heart flutter, made her knees weak and the spot right below her bellybutton quench with a hunger she could only call desire. 

Jon Snow called her his wife so innocently. 

So naturally.

So true it made her ache. 

As if he had been thinking about _them_ for days. 

For weeks. 

For years, even.

And suddenly, all thoughts about carrying on with this unrequited love for years to come had become forgotten—lost and forever gone the moment they stepped in their room and saw the one, single bed in the middle of four walls.

_ "...me and my wife..." _

His sweet words resounded in her head like a soft caress, a sweet promise.  Albeit there was a chance that he said that to avoid suspicion, Arya’s gut was telling her it wasn’t a mere, thoughtless lie. 

So while Jon was busy getting them dinner, Arya smiled and got up from the bed. She began to strip her clothes, a part of her curious and eager to show her “husband” how she really felt. The tips of her breasts hardened because of the cold, and her ankles felt warm as her breeches pooled by her feet. Thinking about his silly, frightened expression as he ran from her with his tail between his legs, she laughed. 

_You_ _might be onto something, Jon Snow._

_I know I am._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finally enters the bedroom to find a rather naked Arya stark waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware the mental anguish ahead. :)

  
Arya half expected Jon to drop the tray of food on the floor when he returned to the room. She was offering herself on a figurative plate: lying on her back, leaning on her elbows, all bare for him to feast on. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, trying to maintain a semblance of mystery of what else she had to offer him. Heart pounding wildly between her ears, she waited for his reaction.

Jon's eyes bulged at the sight of her; his hands wavered, but he did not drop the food (which was a relief because she was actually hungry, so yes, this was clearly a bad idea). She should have guessed he was used to surprises by now, especially after his previous fatal experience. Before she could fantasize about his possible reactions, he straight up glared at her.

"Put your clothes on," he ordered flatly.

Suddenly, Arya lost all bravado as she lay on the bed naked. All her resolve was lost, and it dawned on her how she must have looked with Jon standing in the doorway fully clothed, and she—a complete idiot on the sheets. When she didn’t move an inch, Jon’s eyes darkened—in a not so sensual way as she would have hoped.

“ ** _Now_** , Arya!”

That spurred her into action, and Arya did the only thing she could. She started to laugh and hopped off the bed like a trained assassin—not giving him the pleasure to see her waddle off the bed in shame and make an even bigger fool of herself. “Hilarious!” she exclaimed, sounding too amused even to her own ears. “You should have seen your face!” She struggled to put her clothes on, ignoring the way her hands trembled. She had a feeling she was about to face the executioner.

Jon placed the tray of food on the table with more force than necessary, and Arya was only relieved that he had her back turned to her or he would have seen how truly startled she was. The door closed behind her, making Arya wish that Jon had fled the room in shame.

When she turned around, however, he was still standing there, giving her his full attention. Jon was glowering at her the way her mother would—bless her soul—whenever she escaped her needlework lessons. Arya felt worried, solely because she disappointed him. The way he was clenching and unclenching his dark gloves was not helping either.

Arya wasn’t one to give up so soon, but this was obviously a lost cause. “ _What?!_ ” she teased with a shrug, making her way to their dinner, but he took a step to block her way. The proximity tickled something in her belly. Yet, she stilled herself. She consoled herself with the fact that she always had the power to escape any situation. _That's why,_ Arya reprimanded herself, _you should face this situation like a (really, really humiliating) test. It'll be over soon._  

If Jon was going to reject her, Arya knew it wasn’t going to be the end of her world. She had faced death a-many times, killed several men twice her size, and this was not enough to rattle her (although it did, because it was Jon). Ignoring his silent wrath, she laughed some more. She swooped to the side to get to the food. “You’ve been so serious since we met,” she said. “Was merely teasing your ‘me and my wife’ comment earlier.”

Was it all a joke? _Hells no_ , Arya thought. But he didn’t have to know that. Sitting on one of the chairs, she refused to let him intimidate her as he remained standing, towering over her. It may have worked to frighten his brothers back at the Wall, but not with her. His attempt to assert his authority made her snort. “Aren’t you going to eat? The food’s still warm.”

“Why… Why would you do something like that?” 

Arya rolled his eyes despite the wild beating of her heart. “By gods, Jon, it was in humour!” She took a big gulp of red wine, felt it burn down her throat. However, she was too nervous; the taste was bland on her tongue. “Get over it.”

As Jon stood there, clearly frazzled, Arya wondered if seeing her naked body had any “effect” on him. It was tempting to check his breeches, but surely, she couldn’t when he was too busy judging her. _Eat like a starved man it is_ , she cheered herself on. Why can’t he just laugh about it like she did?

Instead of sitting in the chair opposite her, Jon sat on the edge of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand over his face and his beard. He groaned loudly, and it dawned on her how exhausted he looked.

Guilt washed over her like cold water. Arya wanted to slap her face with her hand for being so insensitive. Gulping, she liked her lips. “Hey, I’m really sorry.” She rarely made stupid decisions anymore, and she had only her youth (and desire) to blame for this one. "Let's forget it happened."

Jon breathed deeply again, still distressed.

“Come on, stupid,” Arya teased, taking a boiled carrot from her plate and threw it over to him. It hit him in the middle of his chest. “It’s nothing you’ve never seen before anyway.”

“No,” he replied after a beat.

“Huh?”

“I _know_.”

Frowning, Arya asked, “Know what?”

“I know it’s been different.” Jon blinked, staring anywhere else but her direction. “We’re not the same people.”

“It’s still us—“

“I think it’s wrong—“

They both stopped talking.

Arya ignored the pain that twisted in her chest. Surely, he didn’t mean to call her his wife. What in the name of the gods was she thinking? She was only glad that she can put on a mask of apathy to shrug it off. “I did say we can forget—“

“It’s wrong for me to say that I like how things have changed,” Jon said. “Mostly after everything that happened, but…”

Did she hear him right?

“I can’t let you go back out there on your own.”

Nice to her as always; this was her Jon. Despite knowing that Arya was playing a dangerous game, he would choose to live with the shame of being with a sister who dared seduce her brother. “I don’t think I can leave you, Jon. Even if you tell me to.”

Jon smiled.

Maybe somewhere down the line, Arya could find a way to crush the stupid butterflies in her belly. “Let’s just have dinner. I can eat everything myself, you know?” She was about to drink more when he spoke again.

“Arya,” he spoke her name, his voice deep, reverberating in the room. It drove a sharp, unfamiliar pain between her legs. He took off his gloves, dropped them on the floor.

“Yes?”

“Come here,” Jon whispered gently and extended a hand towards her.

Her heart pounded with uncertainty, but Arya stood from the chair anyway. Walking over to him, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Sentimental, aren’t we?” she asked with a smile. She was about to let go when he tugged her to him. Her eyes widened as he crushed her in a warm embrace, his head resting just below her breasts. Breath caught in her throat, Arya felt a shudder threatening to quake her entire being.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Jon murmured against her clothes.

_Could he hear my heart pounding against my ribcage?_ Arya wondered. Nevertheless, she reminded herself that this was her brother. Who, like her, had gone through hell in his own journey. How long has it been since he'd been with someone he trusted, been with family? Nodding to herself, Arya bit her lip and returned his embrace, slowly running her fingers through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“There’s been… too many things that happened and…” Jon squeezed her closer, letting out a breath against her belly. “I’ve had to go through everything by myself. I didn’t think they’d still have anything to use against me after I…”

Arya nodded, feeling comfort that both of them were still thinking the same things. Maybe their relationship didn’t have to be so complicated. Someday, perhaps they could talk about their past and find clarity in their future. “It’s been the same for me.” She felt stiff from the position, but it was a solace to feel him ease his weight onto her. It felt good to be needed by Jon.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to you.”

"Nothing we can't survive, I'm sure."  _I used to be No One. And you…_ “We’ve come this far, Jon.”

Jon shook his head. “Thinking about losing you now, I can’t… It kills me to think about it, I…”

Did she really have to tell him that she felt exactly the same?

“And I _have_ noticed,” he mumbled. “You, you’re… You’ve grown into this more beautiful, breathtaking…”

Despite the confusion she was feeling, his voice and his words drove another shot of pain in her cunt. She could feel him clenching his jaw in frustration.

“Seven hells, I’m not blind, Arya.”

A nervous giggle escaped her throat.

“I think it’s wrong, to want you like this,” he said all of a sudden, making her heart skip a beat. “But I know I have to let go of my little sister if I'll… I just don’t know if I could.” He took a deep breath again. “I love you dearly. The person you were in my life, the person you’ve become now… I don’t think I’ve ever encountered such agony before.” He laughed bitterly under his breath. “I… I’m better with duty. With love, not so much. And we can’t—”

“Stop it, Jon,” Arya cut him off. “You’re not being fair. You might be my older _half_ brother, but you don’t get to decide on what we both feel.” She sighed.

“I’m not brave enough for this,” Jon admitted. He met her gaze, and in spite of the sincerity of the moment, Arya had to stifle all desire at the vision of his lovely face between her bosom. “I’m selfish that I want you for myself, but it can’t be. You’re still my—“

“I’m just _yours_ , Jon,” Arya said, pulling his hands away from her person. “Everything you see in front of you is yours. If you need time to figure things out on your own, I'll be here waiting for you. Even if you only want me as a sister, I’ll still be here.” She stared at his feet to avoid the agony in his eyes. "I know we belong together, whoever we may be." 

"You love me too much, dear heart."  

“You don't have to worry. We can simply move past this—”

“Forgive me, little sister,” Jon interrupted her. 

“For what—“

In a blink of an eye, Jon wrapped her in his arms once again, his fingers digging into her waist, her ribs, and his mouth pressed so softly against hers. It caught her off-guard and left her breathless. The warmth of their lips made the warmth soak the crease between her breaches. Her eyes were wide yet his were closed, and it didn’t take long until he released her, a boyish grin on his face.

Was he asking forgiveness for a kiss? 

“Forgive me for we could never go back to how we were.”

Her mouth hung open, her body pumping with equal amounts of uncertainty and desire, but mostly with love.

“Speechless, little wolf?” Jon asked with a shy smile. When he figured she was still unable to speak, he poked her nose with a finger. "Are you rejecting me now?" 

Both of them laughed nervously then, but the sound was light to her ears.

It was a mix of relief, freedom, and happiness and all good things she hadn’t heard or felt in years. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she shook her head. Finding the words were easy, Arya knew, because they've always been there, ever since they were children, despite being apart, and the same words would ring true until her last breath.

“I’ll never not want you, Jon Snow, and that’s the only thing you have to know." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone guess what the last chapter is going to be about? Hehe. ;)
> 
> Honestly, I think Jon's still a torn about it tho. Haha. I may or may not write his POV for a possible 4th chapter just to shed some light on his rather confusing tirade. 
> 
> Thank you for reading my story and the wonderful kudos!! Let's write more JonxArya fics, guys!! xx 
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Jac


	3. When the dam breaks

Waking up alone in their bed, Arya yawned loudly. She didn’t know what she was expecting after their kiss, but a part of her had hoped, maybe, maybe -- something sweeter? She’d always hated the idea of romance -- thought it was horseshit -- but with Jon, she was willing to forget her biases. It was so _nice_ to feel something other than wrath and vengeance.

 

Their night of confession didn’t exactly end as she’d imagined, which was partly alright. They spent the night eating dinner, sleeping on the bed without much event. All they did was stare at each other until they fell asleep. They didn’t even share another kiss. But they had been exhausted and it had been the only time they’ve slept on an actual bed. He was probably readying for their journey, why he was up so early. Of course, Jon would always be thinking ahead. 

 

She wondered how long it would take for Jon to feel at ease about their new "relationship". Jon didn't seem like the type to hold hands or steal a kiss. Then again, hadn’t she already knew that this—whatever it was that was happening between them, wasn’t particularly _easy_? Starks never had it easy, after all.

 

 

To be fair, it was easier to fantasize about how Jon would just ravish her (he knows she was ready), but it was actually different when it was a real thing that was happening to both of them. She was beyond happy, of course, but there was a feeling of urgency she couldn’t shrug off. It’s like she was so anxious, uncertain—she didn’t know why she felt like they needed to talk about them more, why she needed him to make the first move this time.

 

When Arya walked in the stables where Jon was supposedly readying their horses, she was almost tempted to flirt with one of the strangers there just to get a reaction out of him. She stopped, of course. Not giving the other men any attention, she walked straight to Jon. He was brushing the horse’s mane. “Are we leaving soon?”

 

Jon gave her a look, he looked stern and serious once again. “Perhaps.”

 

“Is something wrong?” she asked, dragging her hand across the horse’s back. The last thing she needed was for Jon to feel like they were a mistake. Maybe he wouldn't consummate their love? What if he was just curious to be with a woman? After all, didn't the Night's Watch forbid earthly pleasures? 

 

"Not touching me doesn't make your confession less real, Jon," she said, deciding to push his buttons for the sake of getting a rise out of him. "Doesn't make your cock any softer too."

  
“Arya,” he warned. 

 

“Oooh, using my name to shush me,” Arya teased. “You’re arousing me, Jon!”

 

Jon grunted at her. “Ready your things. We’re having breakfast on the road.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “No fun.”

 

“Now.”

 

“You’re not my Lord Commander,” Arya said under her breath and stuck a tongue out at him before heading back.

 

“I’m still older than you,” he called out as she left.

 

\-----

 

Seeing as they weren’t taking the same route in this whole love affair (giggle at that), Arya left it alone. For now. The road to wherever they were going was bleak and cold, and if Jon wasn’t going to say anything save for a few grunts and commands to his horses, then so be it. Arya was used to lonesome and silent travels, probably more so than Jon.

 

 _Oh_ , Arya thought sadly. _If only this steed was my Jon. I’d ride him so well it would make him cry._ She giggled at the fantasy. Jon seemed like the type to cry during a good fuck and it was hilarious. The image of her tough-guy-soft-on-the-inside brother crying while being fucked made her burst laughing.

 

“Oy, what’s so funny?” he called out from behind.

 

Arya batted her eyelashes at him. “None of your concern, brother dear,” she said sweetly, her words dripping with sarcasm.

 

Jon rode beside her, but kept his eyes in front. “We should set up camp before the sun goes down. I'm famished too.”

 

Ignoring him, Arya clicked her boots and made the horse trot faster to a certain direction. It didn’t take her long to find a good spot to build a fireplace. Jon didn’t say a word and followed her. After making sure their horses wouldn’t run off in the middle of the night, they began to pitch up a tent good enough for two. Few moments later, they were roasting the wild hare she hunted.

 

“S’good,” Jon said, taking a bite. “Where’d you learn to cook like this? Let alone hunt so fast.”

 

“Learned along the way,” Arya replied with a shrug. She took a sip of mead and licked her lips.

 

“Where?”

 

“Everywhere.”

 

“Playing that game, aren’t we?” Jon teased. He grabbed her bottle and took a swig. “When did you start liking me, eh?”

 

Arya frowned at him. “What is up with you?” His fluctuating moods were worse than hers, apparently. 

 

“I asked a question. Would like an answer.”

 

“Well, I don’t know. All I know is I’ve always loved you--” she paused when his eyes widened. “More than a brother. Maybe it was when Ja---my mentor, told me to give up Needle? I don’t know. It just happened.” Arya honestly didn’t think they would see each other again. He had been so high up the pedestal, always comparing him to every boy she thought she’d kiss. They all fell short of his memory.

 

“You had a mentor then.”

 

“And you? You’ve ever been with a woman before?” Arya asked bluntly, unable to help herself. The thought of Jon with another woman made her want to go on a killing spree.

 

Jon looked surprised.

 

“Not so much fun being on the receiving end of stupid questions, hm?” Arya followed up quickly, afraid he would answer. Terrified he would tell her about loving someone else the way she loved him. That another woman had taken his bed, his body, his heart. “Serves you right--”

 

“Ygritte,” he murmured. “Her name was Ygritte.”

 

Jon’s tone only told her one thing; this Ygritte was gone, and she held a special place in his heart. Arya wanted to smack herself for feeling the need to comfort him. She stopped herself; who had been there to comfort _her_? Reminders of her journey made her heart cold and angry.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Arya found her voice after a while. “I’m sorry.” Before he could say anything else, she stood up and yawned. “I’m beat. I’ll keep watch after I nap.” Unable to look him in the eye, she swooped inside their tent, feeling her heart clench with an unnamed emotion. Her eyes felt hot. She had to bite her cheek to stop unbidden tears from falling.  

 

Was Ygritte the reason why Jon found it hard to completely reciprocate her feelings? Who was she, this Ygritte, to have caused such pain in him? Hadn’t he been hurt enough? Why did she always think so highly of Jon? Why was Arya’s memory not enough for him? It was an unfair sentiment, but Arya felt stubborn. She was angry at herself, at Jon, at this Ygritte, at everyone else who caused their lives to go to hell. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been so twisted in the head and heart had she never been separated from Jon. But such were things she could never change, and some things were simply meant to be.

 

Tugging on the blanket, Arya bid herself to sleep, and wished that all the hurt would just go away. Even if that meant losing all her feelings for Jon.

 

 - - - -

 

“Little wolf…”

 

Jon was calling her, her mind alerted her. However, his tone was not in distress. If anything, he sounded rather warm. Comfortable. Still half asleep, Arya hummed in reply. 

 

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked quietly.

 

Arya could tell he was laying beside her, watching her face as she tried to sleep. She peeked at him. He looked sad. He was laying on his belly beside her, his hair a wild mess, loose curls covering his dark brown eyes. She shut her eyes again. “No, silly. I’m just really tired.” Her chest, however, still felt heavy. But she didn’t want to think about that. As long as they were together, nothing else mattered. Not even a lover’s ghost could come between them.

 

“Jealous then?”

 

“Oh fuck off,” Arya groaned and turned away from him, but she suddenly felt his hand reach for her, twisting her back to him. When she tried to look away, Jon’s fingers pinched her side. Laughter bubbled out from her lips. _Ugh, bloody seven hells._ “Stop it, Jon! You imbecile!” she hissed, trying to push him away, but he was full-on trying to tickle her. “STOP!!!” she burst into a fit of giggles, and so did he as she tried to fight him off.   


Jon took hold of her wrists and pinned them on her side. He balanced himself on top of her, and right at that moment, time seemed to stop.

  
Both of them were breathing heavily, staring intently at one another.

 

“I love you,” both of them whispered at the same time, and a small smile reflected on their faces.

 

Arya’s heart was pounding. The heat emanating from him was burning. “Jon…”

 

"How you've changed, little wolf," he whispered, loosening his grip on her wrists.

 

“I…”

 

“Shh,” he hushed her, tracing his finger over her lips. “You know you’re the one, don’t you?”

 

“The one…?”

 

Jon nodded, clearing the hair from her face. “The one I’m supposed to be with.”

 

Arya shivered when he bit the tip of his glove and pulled his hand free. To her surprise, he cupped her face gently. The intense hunger for him returned full force when that hot hand swept down her neck, and then traced over her breasts. His fingers purposely got caught over the hard tips, making her gasp sharply. All the while, he kept his eyes on her face, his hands slowly slipping underneath her shirt, gripping her waist.

 

“Jon!” she yelped when his fingers dripped lower, pulling her breeches downwards, taking her small clothes along with it. “What…” Breath caught in her throat, Arya’s eyes were wide as she stared at him, waiting for him. Thankfully, her shirt managed to cover her core, but she knew she was exposed. The thought made her wet.

 

Her knees wobbled, trying to close, but Jon’s hands remained on her thighs. He was moving them slowly, each touch making her leak. Jon made a pleased sound. “I want you like this, so I can see you better, dear sister.”

 

The term of affection made them both blush.

 

“My little Arya,” he resumed, his eyes intense on the hem resting above her core. Jon ghosted his hand on the thin garment and pulled it upwards.

 

Arya couldn’t help the whine that escaped her throat when the cold air hit her weeping slit. When Jon touched the soft hairs there, she bit her lower lip hard and tried not to moan out loud. His fingertips ghosted softly down her nether lips. “This,” he whispered, looking at her now, “This wasn’t here before, I’m sure.”

 

When Jon cupped her, her cunt responded by coating his palm with her juices. His other hand pushed her shirt upwards, baring her breasts for him. He rested one hand on a tit, the nipple hard on his palm. “You’ve grown up so much.” His touch pressed harder against her cunt, his thumb swerving against the nub of flesh that emerged from her folds.

 

Arya bucked her hips, wanting more. One of her hands caught his wrist, the one between her legs. He wasn’t going to be able to leave her anymore. Not this time.

 

“I don’t want -- I don’t love anyone else as much as I love you,” Jon whispered. He withdrew his hand from her chest and pulled himself free from his breeches. “I want to share everything with you.” Eyes on her, his hand that was drenched with her wetness, went to grasp his thick cock. It was his turn to shiver as their juices mixed. He gave it a squeeze, and he leaked with precum.

 

She was mesmerized. Arya's cunt had never hurt so much in her entire life. It was a pain that only Jon could remedy.

 

"Does it hurt for you too?" Jon asked. "Because it does for me. Every time I see you, I want to rut your cunt with my cock. Every single time." But he didn't let her answer. Instead he gave her a kiss, a deep one.

 

Arya felt like exploding when his hot cock touched her inner thigh.

 

“What a woman you’ve become,” Jon murmured before taking a hard nipple in his mouth. He suckled each tip, nibbled gently. He was taking his time. 

 

What was this sweet torture? Arya pressed him closer to her. She even loved the way his beard made her breasts itch; each prickle sending a bolt down navel. “More, Jon…”

 

"I need you, little wolf. I always have.” Jon cupped her again and without warning, slipped a calloused finger inside her wet heat.

 

Arya cried from the sheer pleasure of it all. She thrashed underneath his body, all the while clinging to him. She wanted him closer, even more closer, if it was possible. All they could hear was the soft squish of his finger between her legs and her breathy moans.

 

Jon kissed her one more time before sitting back on his heels. She was nothing but a quivering mess as he took his top off.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now,” Arya managed to tease, though she knew he was far from it. How could he, not with his cock jutted out like that.

 

"No," he whispered. "I want to see you one more time before I fuck you properly."

 

Arya trembled as Jon drew back, spread her legs apart one more time, opening her to him. How she must have looked, with her shirt hiked above her breasts, her nipples pointed and hard, her womanhood begging for release. She was sure he could see the way she was dripping in front of him. Her cunt hungry for the cock pointed at her.

 

"Not one moment apart again, Arya," he whispered, and kissed her harshly on the mouth.

 

Their teeth clashed, and she almost tasted blood. His hand squeezed her breast again, and she arched upward. She tried to touch his cock, but Jon drew back once more.

 

"I love you, little wolf," he said, poking the little bud of pleasure with a finger. He buried his face between her thighs, and she swore she just fell apart. She felt like she was struck by lightning, especially when he started to suck on her clit. It was mindless pleasure but suddenly, he left her cunt. She cried in disappointment, but the next thing she knew she was so full. The pain was searing, but the ecstasy afterwards was just as explosive. It was a confusing feeling at first, but then he started to move. Started to grind into her.

 

Arya tried to remember how to breathe. When he started sucking on her tit as he pumped, she knew she was a goner. Wave after wave, she felt like coming up the edge of a cliff and falling. Over and over again. She was dying. And living again. So this was how it felt.

 

 _Oh god Jon_ , she cried as he rotated his hips, making her moan louder. Her walls spasmed against his cock as she came, and she didn’t want to stop.  

 

"I'm about to--I can't hold it in--" he paused and bucked his hips, jacked into her so fast until he growled out her name. "ARYA!!!" he yelled, spilling his seed into her, making her cum once again.

 

Feeling him explode inside her reduced her into pure bliss, and she was only grateful of his weight on top of her, reminding her where they were, who she was with. Hands clasped tight, it didn't take long until both of them drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

 

When Arya woke up hours later, she smiled feeling Jon's warm body still beside her. All the times she had been alone felt like a lifetime away. Only Jon could complete her to this extend. It made her think about their future together.

 

Surely, only good things would happen from now on. 

 

She was wrong about that, but frankly, Arya didn't care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the end! I wanted to finish this before anything else happened in the series. Love everyone for leaving kudos and comments. Hope you had fun reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it's messy, but thanks for reading! Please kudos and tell me what you think! ;)


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